Run
by FlyingHampsterOfDoom
Summary: “Run” The swirling green light surrounded her, pierced her, wept with her; it filled her lungs as she escaped. It caressed her as she ate away at the ground, as she stumbled and sprained her ankle, as she got back up and ran harder- faster.
1. Chapter 1

"Run"

The swirling green light surrounded her, pierced her, wept with her; it filled her lungs as she escaped. It caressed her as she ate away at the ground, as she stumbled and sprained her ankle, as she got back up and ran harder- faster.

The green foliage refracted the light and danced with her, mocking her, as she curtailed the thoughts that ran rampantly throughout her, that ate away at her mind until she couldn't escape.

So she ran faster.

Her green sundress swirled around her legs, swishing and bunching and hindering, and she immediately thought it funny. Funny how something so beautiful could very well be the death of her. How something that was bought out of comfort and _functionality_, for God's sakes! Was going to kill her; be the death of her, put her in an early grave.

Her thoughts were running away with her again, but at least she was bringing something along for the ride.

She was so intensely aware that Amy wasn't next to her, hadn't been since the tersely-worded 'do it now because I don't have enough time to spare to make sure you're really going to be safe.' And it made her feel like a coward.

No. Made her realize that she was nothing _but _a coward.

And then suddenly there was so much white and yellow and red. Oh God the red. And she couldn't make herself stop to gawk at the beauty of it, like a shard of light designed for no other purpose than to kill, to delve deep into the soul and splinter into pieces that would never be found.

At first she didn't register anything around her, such was her frantic need to simply get away. And then, slowly, she noticed blurs that would sharpen, bend, eat away at the skyline, as if they were trying to claim any small portion of the universe that they could- all inky black and sequined hope.

It wasn't for another twenty minutes that she realized they were people. Hordes of them, and all of them staring somewhere, all of them belonging somewhere, needing something, someone. All of them going _home_.

Rounding sharply on her feet, she careened into a side alley and simply collapsed. From exhaustion, from stress and strain, from worry, and from pure hurt (something so much farther escalated than fear that it seemingly needed its own category in her aching mind).

She's going to stay here forever. She's going to forget all the love and pain and simple past that she has, and stay in this forsaken alley for all of eternity and a day.

Forget the smiles and the true love that shone in their eyes. Forget the betrayal that was ultimately her fault. Forget that her friend is out there somewhere right now; or possibly not any longer.

Can't think about that. Too painful. Too close. Too at fault.

She never thought it would come to this- to hiding pitiably in small alleys, in a corner of the world that only God and Amy knew (and that's not entirely true, she berates herself, and thus knows that no matter how tired she is, she's got to keep moving).

Suddenly, she wishes she could Jump. Because then she'd have a reason to be fighting on the side that she is, and not just because she was thrust into it- and damnit all, she's on the right side.

She wants nothing more than to be able to go back to where she last saw Amy, in that clearing of despair that reeked of false promises and new hurts. So that she could at least try to do something, anything- instead of being stuck here, wherever it is, and wondering furiously and with reckless abandon, what in the hell is happening to her friend.

She feels the Jump before she sees the person, and turns around as fast as she can (after all, she had been sitting on the ground a moment ago), thinking desperately that it's Amy, come to tell her everything's ok, that they have to move, and no permanent damage done.

But it's not.

And she sickeningly realizes, with the cold finality that only fire-breathing ice cubes forcing themselves down your throat and into your stomach can give you, that Amy is never going to be the one she feels Jumping again. Not ever.

"Hey, I know you. Miss Can't Dance, right?"

Cocky bastard, she gratingly thinks, knows, _feels_, within every pore of her being.

She's half-stooped in the best fighting stance she can muster, covered in mud and sweat and blood and saliva. Her hair's matted to her neck and face, her eyes vibrant and glossy; she's heaving and trying to stifle sobs that leave her body wracking and writhing in pain.

And he's asking if she's the girl that can't dance.

She's going to kick his ass. The thought didn't even have to register before she's pushing herself off the brick wall of support she coddled moments before, and her fist is shoving itself in his face.

He's been caught off guard, which is the only reason she was able to pop him a good square one right on the corner of his mouth. She'd been aiming higher, hoping for maybe a nose or an eye (she laughs here, too, because she's making it sound like he's an alien with two noses), but she settles happily for the split lip and undoubtedly nasty looking bruise that she's given him.

And then she runs.

Not out of fear of retaliation, but that she'll rain death down upon him, too. Because she can feel them coming. Not like she does with Jumpers, all sense and magic and simply just knowing.

She knows with the bone-numbing terror that experience brings upon the weary and knowledgeable. She knows because she's trained with them, because she can feel the very power rolling off of them like they have enough to spare, so might as well just ooze it out.

Damned Paladins.

But stupid accent-boy caught up to her too fast for her liking, she shouldn't be surprised really, except that she is; and her poor frazzled nerves can't take much more of this.

It's then, out in the busy street with Paladins chasing her, and a _very_ angry looking man standing in front of her, that she realizes that he Jumped.

"Oh, shit," she mumbles.

**I've edited all the chapters to fit one basic writing style, past and present are now one tense (second), but past happenings will be in **_**italics,**_** whereas present won't. Obviously. **

**The only chapter that got a real make-over is the fourth chapter, since so much of it was in the first person, but it still gets the same ideas across, so if you don't want to re-read it, then you'll still know what's going on when I post the fifth chapter later today (this author's note is going to be sooo dated tomorrow!)**

**Disclaimer goes down here: I don't own it. There. Done with.**


	2. Chapter 2

"You're damned right _shit_," he growled at her. "Just what in the hell was all that about?" Demands, he was making demands of her. Well fine, that was normal, but she didn't have the time to soothe his ego. Right now, she could feel them moving closer, circling in.

She needed to get away, far away. Run, and just continue running. And she couldn't let him get in the way- or hurt; because even though he was annoying and brash and explicatives she surprised herself by knowing, he didn't deserve what they would do to him.

She gulped in air, hoping it wouldn't be her last taste of freedom, then took his hand, trying to pull him along behind her; knowing full well that he came of his own accord, and not because she was able to bully him into it.

In some recess of her mind she realized how odd it was, to be pulling along behind her a boy she barely knew, had only met the one time, and be mortifyingly worried that the Paladins would not only catch her, but this infuriating Jumper, who only ran along behind her because he was curious and angry and wanted his answers.

She was jerked to the left suddenly, and it was a bizarre sensation, being pulled along by someone behind you. She nearly fell on her ass from her forward momentum crashing to a halt for the briefest of moments, then being picked up again in a new direction her body was not expecting.

Another alleyway, this one not reeking of her cowardice and failure, but instead crackling and fizzing with anger and the need to get away, two emotions warring with each other.

In the end it was his anger that won out, and this time she wasn't surprised- everything he did seemed to dwarf her, even her all-consuming, raw need to just keep moving.

"What, the hell, happened?" He demanded again, pausing to emphasize just how pissed off he was (which honestly, he didn't need to do, she could practically taste the metallic tang of it in the air).

"I'm really sorry, but there's no time. In fact, it would probably be better if we split up, and I'm really really sorry for getting you mixed up in this. But dammnit! You Jumped! They can feel you here, even now, and I don't know what to do but get away, so if you'll excuse me I have things to do- like run for my life." She rambled into the space between them, which wasn't nearly wide enough for her comfort, and tried to commence escaping.

Unfortunately, nothing ever goes her way. Not ever.

"Hold up, what?" His arm draped across her shoulders, mockingly hugging her neck, and effectively keeping her from leaving.

"The Paladins, they're here, and I _have to go_," she says in an 'you're dumb but I'm trying my hardest to be nice,' voice.

"Where? How many?" She could feel the vibration of his body preparing itself for a fight, preparing itself to win. And that scared her, to know that he was willing to take on the scariest things she could ever think of- and that he could win.

What did that make him to her? The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, but if your ally could kill your enemy without a second thought, did that make them too dangerous to have around? Was that the type of person you really wanted to have an allegiance with?

Her brain screechingly came to a halt. "No! You can't kill them! Or even fight them! Because then they'll know that I've got help, and that will make it harder to flee. I won't be able to hide _anywhere _if they think I've got friends, let alone _Jumper_ friends!"

She can't see his face, but can tell by the tightening of his arm around her neck (and she tries valiantly not to think of how easy it would be for him to crush her) that he's thinking of doing it anyway.

"Please," she whispers, hoping that he can hear it- hear how tired she really is of running, that she wouldn't be able to live if even that can't save her from her tormentors.

It's another moment, one precious moment that's ripped from her bleeding, she has so few of them left before the Paladins come crashing down upon her, before he responds. "So then Jump away. I'll handle them, they'll feel you leave, and won't be any the wiser. They'd expect it of me," he adds. Even before he was finished she was shaking her head.

"I can't. I can't Jump," and it's a painful admittance. One she would give her left arm not to have to stutter out into the world. Not to let it be known that she's on the 'have to kill' list for something other than her mere birth. Not to let everyone hear how dangerous she is to have around.

Best not to keep her, they'd all say, she's can't defend herself at all. Can't even Jump. And they want her, no idea why, but it's probably better not to know.

"What?" it's some time afterwards that she realizes his question is rhetorical, because he's busy thinking of different scenarios in his mind. Thinking of ways he can get rid of her without feeling guilt, no doubt.

"Look, just let me go, I have no time for this. I'll be out of your hair and everything will be fine," everyone in the entire world can hear it's a lie. 'Everything will be fine' is too blatant. You don't say things like that, not around Jumpers, not with the way most of them have grown up. Not when it comes to Paladins; not even when it comes to reassuring people. 'Everything will be fine,' is a cardinal sin amongst people in this war.

Yet it's out there now, and she's not going to take it back, not going to admit that she's wrong, that she's lying. If she can believe it, than so can he, she tells herself.

Before either of them can respond, there's three Paladins at the end of the alley, and there's no way for her to escape, but she pushes him off of her anyway, and turns to face them.

"'Bout time you got here, I thought I'd die of exhaustion before you caught up," she states, letting her caustic indifference towards them weave its way into the air, eating up the words she wants to say, like, 'help me,' and 'go away,' and most importantly: 'where's Amy?'

She lets hate and anguish kill the words on her lips, and chooses a fighting stance. It's not one they taught her- she's not going to use their own techniques against them, that would be too satisfactory for them, she knows. It would signify that she was once a part of their group, once willing and pliable.

It would mean they'd won, even before their fight began.

**I'm going to do a bit of skipping between what's happening now, and what happened then, ok? I tried going linear with earlier attempts at this plot, but I got too bored, and just wanted to get to this point in the story. **

**Basically what I'm trying to say is, don't worry, you'll hear exactly what happened to Amy, and what went on in the main character's past. **

**Anyways, read and review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Past happenings are in **_**italics**_**, present isn't. **

**Anyways, read and review!**

_They had entered the bar in a fit of giggles and a rustle of hazy heat, August was prone to those kinds of nights. Technically she wasn't supposed to be inside the bar that night, but no one much cared that she wasn't yet twenty-one. _

_The first round of drinks were purchased for them by the scrawny guy in the corner, and they took their time with them, there was still a long night ahead, no use in rushing it._

"_Shilloh, I think that guy over there is looking at you!" Amy giggled in her direction, and she barely held in a groan; Amy was prone to attempting match-making, and her friend was often a favorite subject._

"_Amy, I don't think so, and besides, I just saw his girlfriend head for the bathroom," not really true, but she would forget about it and move on. _

"_Ladies," a voice like molten steel and brittle velvet interjected itself, and neither girl could help but look up at the man addressing them. "Could I buy you a drink?"_

"_I do believe we already have some," Amy was flirting- she always added a tinge of her Southern accent to her voice when she did; she would often tell Shilloh that it worked almost every time, and her friend had no reason to disbelieve her, as she had yet to see it fail. _

"_Well then, allow me the pleasure of your company until you need another?" He was definitely going to go far with Amy tonight. _

"_Maybe, if we knew your name?" Shilloh interjected, not one to be completely ignored; she may have been a shy child, but with Amy she was never afraid of being rejected by anyone. _

"_Roland," and she could practically see Amy envisioning their first date together. She had to kick Amy under the table to get her to talk._

"_Amy, and this is my friend, Shilloh," she flippantly addressed the girl next to her. There were not hard feelings, though, Shilloh wasn't interested in this Roland, and besides, all was fair in love and war._

_Amy arrived at their shared apartment later on that week from her first date with him, claiming that he was the one, and that they were so obviously soul mates._

_And, so shallow that you wouldn't have to scratch the surface to find it, Shilloh always agreed. _Always.

Sometime during the course of her life, this had become normal- scary as hell, but still normal.

At some point, all her past events merged at a certain point, and they dictated that this moment would happen; told her that she was ready for it. And that, too, was a lie. She was getting good at that.

"Alright then," taking a steadying breath, she prepared herself for the onslaught- they would use their weapons on her, even though she wasn't a Jumper. The chances of killing her more painfully doubled that way.

Sick bastards.

The one on the left made to move at her, and she stepped forward, her left palm out, ready to let him come at her, before she felt it.

It was all melting snow and ripping out the fabric of life- that cold shiver she felt down her spine, and the way everything seemed to distort for a second; she wasn't certain, at first, what was happening.

She was somewhere else entirely now, and her breath finally returned to her. It had felt like millennia since she was last able to breathe in.

She had Jumped. No, not her, infuriating and insufferable Griffin had jumped, and she'd been along for the ride.

"Dammit! Why'd you do that?" She demanded, turning around and expecting him to be there.

Must not have felt him Jump away.

Turning around, trying to find her bearings, she growled in irritation. No clue where she was, and no way she'd be able to walk to the next town; she'd die of heat exhaustion before she even made it close.

Resigning herself to waiting, and hoping, that he would return so she could get to where she needed to be- she did have a plan she was trying to follow, after all (not that he'd care much for that) – she plopped herself down in the shade of a rock, and tried not to feel the sand creeping into her shoes.

"_So what does he do?" Shilloh asked on their celebratory night out; it had been almost a year since Amy started dating him, and she still knew nothing about him._

"_I don't know, really," Amy replied, "but tonight's about you, let's get you liquored up!" Tonight was Shilloh's twenty-first birthday, and they were celebrating it in grand fashion._

"_Here here!" She cheered, lifting her first bottle of booze into the air, nearly smashing it into the head of someone standing too close, "oh man, I'm sorry! Did I get any on you?" she wasn't really looking at him, but instead paying attention to his cream shirt- hoping she hadn't stained it, that shirt looked __expensive__._

"_No harm done," he replied, and was again one with the faceless crowd around them before she could register his accent and attempt a flirt. _

_It took Amy only three drinks before she was so drunk that Shilloh felt it prudent to start heading home. _

"_Hey, hey, you're my best friend, you know?" She began, never slurring- she never slurred when drunk, "and you know what? I… I have something to tell you!" She hiccupped, and looked slightly confused for a minute, "I just __love__ your hair! It's sooooo soft! And pretty! It's pretty too!" She exclaimed with the type of glee that only drunks and five-year-olds seem to have, and then reached out a hand and attempted to pet her friend's hair._

_It wasn't so much petting hair, as it was just pushing Shilloh's head in a different direction._

"_Oh, but, but wait! That's not what I wanted to tell you!" She whispered, and looked around conspiratorially, "I've wanted to for a while, you know, but I've always been scared!" all caution had been thrown to the wind, and with it the control she had on her voice, for Amy was yelling so loud now that her voice echoed in the alleyway next to them._

"_Well then, once we get back to the apartment you can tell me, ok?" Shilloh sensibly replied, since she didn't have more than that first beer. Being drunk was overrated. _

_By the time they reached their apartment, Amy was much more subdued; she hadn't brought up wanting to tell a secret again, and Shilloh had thought that maybe she'd simply forgotten._

"_Shilloh, I need to tell you something, and I want to tell you while I'm still drunk enough to feel courageous," she announced as she was helped into sitting on the couch._

"_Ok then, what is it that's so important?" Shilloh was distracted, and not really focusing on her friend._

"_No, see, I have to show you rather than tell you," and as she turned to look at Amy, she was suddenly gone, and then back, with a glass of water and an aspirin in her hand, just calmly placing it on the coffee table._

"_How the hell did you do that?" Shilloh managed after what had just happened finally hit. Amy sighed, looked at her friend, and began explaining. She explained everything, from her first jump experience, to constantly moving in her childhood, and her theories on how it was possible._

_But she left out one very important thing, and Shilloh was soon to discover it on her own. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Once again, past is in **_**italics**_** and present isn't. This chapter has been heavily edited, but it's all mostly the same, so you can skip it if you really want. **

"_Amy?" Shilloh stuttered- a habit she had picked up on her last visit home. Amy didn't pay any attention to her though, and she sucked in a breath, realizing that this request would cost her dearly._

"_Amy? I've got an essay in French class that's due tomorrow, and I was... wondering… if…" She trailed off as Amy's face stuck out from underneath a pillow, one eye cracked open, and just _staring_._

_Clearly, Amy wasn't impressed with being woken up for a simple French essay Jump. Sighing, Shilloh took in another breath, and readied herself for the incentive she knew would get Amy to go._

"_And there's also that new club that opened up, I thought maybe, after I was done, we could go?" She saw Amy's eyes light up, and she bounced off to get ready for France, and dancing._

_She loved Paris- she loved the lights, the food, the language, the art. And she loved the coffee. _

_Her essay had been finished faster than she thought it would- but she had help. Sitting in her favorite café, she had been mumbling to herself, trying to find the right suffix to make 'swim' into 'swam'. She was just about to give up, say, 'screw it all!' and turn it into 'swimming,' when the charming man next to her laughed, and asked in perfectly accented English, if he could help._

_So she had spent the last two hours around charming men, lots of coffee, and delicious chocolate. But now her fun was over, and she had to let Amy know that she was ready to leave whenever that stupid club opened._

_Amy, with her pixie-like chin and beautifully wavy black hair; Amy, with her siren-like topaz eyes and lusciously pink lips; Amy, with her golden complexion and just the right amount of freckles- the Amy that was a goddess amongst models- demanded that _she_ dress up to go clubbing._

_As if she wouldn't look like a troll playing pretty- pretty princess compared to Amy. There was no way. She would wear what she had come to France in, and that would be good enough._

_Shilloh won out- she knew what sort of clothes Amy tried to dress her friends in. There had been one time, when Shilloh wasn't so lucky, and Amy had dressed her up for the day (Shilloh had lost a hand at poker). She had had to beat off three lecherous old men that day, and one overly-enthusiastic teenager_

_So it was, that when they made their way to the front of the line, Amy was able to just walk right in, and since Shilloh was with her, even in her unflashy outfit, she was able to just walk right in as well._

_As soon as they entered, Shilloh glanced around, hoping to avoid Amy thrusting some poor man into dancing with her (people needed their toes, she kept telling Amy, but was always ignored)._

_Spotting the bar, she resolutely, and quickly, walked towards it, hearing the beginnings of Amy grumbling about how little fun she was._

"_Hey, I said I would come, not that I would be entertaining," she shot back, before Amy could get a leg to stand on, and _make _Shilloh go out on the dance floor._

_As she sat down on the stool in front of the barman, the man next to her turned around to attempt small talk. Now, it wasn't that she was trying to be mean, it was just that neither of them could really speak the other's language, so after a couple of minutes, she simply turned to the barman to order something._

_However, she didn't know what to order, so she pointed to the first interesting-looking bottle she saw, which turned out to be a mistake._

_She was on her second drink by the time the guy next to her got the hint that she wasn't interested in talking and finally left. As she moved on to her third drink, she had the disturbing notion that she was turning into an alcoholic. Really, it seemed like all her and Amy did was go to bars._

"_Well fuck it, if I'm an alcoholic because of her, she's dead," she grumbled into her glass, and was startled by someone chuckling at her as they slid into the empty seat beside her._

_The dark corners of her soul twanged with half-hearted remembrances from the sound of his laughter, and she knew right away that he was dangerous._

"_Trouble with the missus?" he asked after ordering himself a drink._

_Scowling in his direction, she smartly replied, "'with' would imply that it's a joint problem, and I don't much appreciate your implications." So she was crabby, but this place really had her on her toes- she hated the music, the crowd that forced her to be near _everyone_, and the way she felt like she resided within a world she hadn't been initiated into, didn't understand._

_He raised his eyebrows at her, and with infuriatingly inappropriate timing, asked her something she had been trying to avoid all night, "care to dance?" She could easily imagine him losing his interest right away, and asking the same question of the girl next to him. The way his voice smoothed itself over the words reeked of familiarity, and she couldn't help but wonder how many women he had asked before, and how many he would ask once she turned him down._

_Because she inevitably would, always, turn men like him down; the ones that felt too good in their own skin, the ones that alluded to their lack of permanence and smothered you with the way they could make you feel like you were finally living._

_They were dangerous to her, and she wanted nothing to do with them._

"_No, I can't dance," she replied, not missing a beat when Amy began walking towards her. Subtly shaking her head, Amy got the message and left the two alone- Shilloh was uncomfortable with him, but not threatened, so there was no need to interfere._

"_Name's Griffin," he offered, but she didn't feel so inclined to share her own name._

"_Knowing your name isn't going to make my dancing any better," she stated, and ordered a fourth drink, feeling fuzzy around the edges by this point. She could feel his smirk without having to look at him, and scrunching her nose, she turned towards him- which instantly set off another chuckle from him._

_And she'd be damned, literally, if she ever let herself admit that, just this one time, she didn't mind it if some stranger was laughing at her expense- just so long as their laugh sounded like his._

_She nursed her drink for twenty minutes before she once again glanced in his direction. He still wasn't gone._

_Curiosity always got the better of her, she knew it was a weakness, but, well, she was always just too curious to care, and so she had to ask, "what are you still doing here?" Normally, she wouldn't have been so blunt, subtlety was something she was usually quite good at, but the drinks were starting to catch up to her._

"_For you to get drunk enough to say yes," was his simple enough, and disturbingly honest, reply. He was in for quite the wait though, because she had a high tolerance level, and she knew her limits._

_Huffing indignantly, she ordered her fifth drink, wondering when Amy was going to get bored so they could just go already._

"You know, you're pretty damned entertaining when you're drunk," she felt him, standing just about _there_, or maybe slightly to her left. She could feel his amusement and adrenaline, and could almost taste the self-confidence that radiated off of him; and yet she didn't open her eyes.

"Well it wasn't very gentlemanly of you to take advantage of someone that drunk," she replied, acting bored. Acting, for all the world, like she wasn't stuck in the middle of the desert with only him as her lifeline.

"Advantage? All we did was dance!"

"Yeah, but I'd already told you _no_, twice, if I remember correctly." Her eyes were open now, and the blaring sun hurt. She must have dozed off, because it was several degrees lower in the sky than she remembered it being.

"It was just dancing," he replied, feeling not in the least bit sorry for his past behavior.

"What you did today wasn't just dancing," her piercing gaze locked with his, and he could see how morbidly pissed off she was at him for interfering.

"No, that was saving your sorry hide."

"No, that was making my life even more difficult. Now I have no safe house, nowhere to go, and no friends. I was on my way to meet some people, people that might have been able to help me." Her eyes closed again, and she burrowed herself deeper into the sand, pressing her back against the cool rock behind her.

"But thanks, anyways," she shot at him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Next chapter will be the last time I post this: **_**Italics**_** are past situations, everything else is present. **

**Sorry to redo this chapter on you, but I couldn't stand it, and I wouldn't allow myself to continue on to the next chapter without fixing this one. If you don't know, I re-did chapter 4 a while back, it's nothing that'll change the story line, but it's better.**

**Merry Christmas!**

She could feel the energy welling up from within her, like liquefied dreams- all pooled at the base of her stomach, ready to bloat its way upwards, through her throat, making her feel as if she was about to throw up.

She wasn't ever quite sure what it was, but she knew that if she could find some outlet to release it, she would achieve something great. Something she would later be proud of- a painting, a poem, the greatest snowman ever seen in heaven earth or hell.

Unfortunately for Griffin, none of these options were currently present for her.

She knew she was being a bitch- knew that, even though he was insufferable and didn't know how to listen, there was some part of him that looked at her, sized her up, and determined that she was incapable of the task before her (something she bristled at), and came to the conclusion that he would handle it, but only after deciding she was safely tucked away somewhere.

Basically, he had been trying to be nice.

She jumped up from her sitting position, scattering sand into the air, to be caught by the wind; something she would normally have marveled at.

"How dare you!" She shouted at him before he could notice the deadly change in her mood. "Not only did you take my fight from me- even after I told you not to, by-the-by!- but you just _left me in the middle of nowhere!_ If you never came back, I'd be dead, which would clearly invalidate you dropping me off here in the first place!" Her breathing started coming in ragged gasps.

"And furthermore, I could have handled that myself, so I take umbrage at your just deciding that I 'obviously' couldn't throw a punch to save my life- even if I couldn't fight, it was obvious those three were pricks that couldn't tell their fists from their feet- which under normal circumstances I'd be pissed about too, I mean honestly, if you're trying to kill someone, send people that are obviously not below that person's skill level- but I digress-" he cut her off.

"Are you serious? Do people honestly talk like that- _ever_- let alone when they're trying to argue a point?" He marveled at her for a moment, enjoying seeing her gaping at him, until he noticed her cheeks flushed with more than just anger and embarrassment.

"What the hell are you wearing?" He asked her, causing her to look down at herself, and sigh.

"Oh, right, I forgot," reaching up, she tore off her hat and scarf, discarding them into the sand- if she had cared to stay there long enough to watch, she would have seen them smoothly covered up by the earth and wind. She then began clawing at her short-sleeved vest, discarding that, too, in the sand behind her.

Looking up, she noticed his puzzled look, "In case you didn't know, it is December, and I live in snow country," she supplied an answer to his unasked question.

"Yeah, but you're wearing a sundress under all that," he waved vaguely at her, looking at her as if she'd caught the crazy.

She managed a small laugh, imagining what she must've looked like, running around in her winter clothes, snuggly fitting over her long green sundress- picking fights with men in alleyways and challenging Paladins with her smart mouth and tiny fists, which she was just now noticing were covered in thin gloves.

"I was baking, and with two ovens it gets hot fast, but I had to transport everything into my car when we were done, so I wanted something warm to fit over everything." After her stuttered out and extremely clipped explanation, she huffed in a manner that would embarrass most girls, and plopped herself back into the sand, where, leaning on her hands, she stretched out her legs and hit her shoes together.

Blowing hair out of her eyes, she came to a fast conclusion, one she wasn't happy about at all, and steeled her resolve.

She couldn't believe what she was about to say. She really, really didn't want to, but she knew that if she didn't, she'd go through life feeling annoyingly guilty. Plus, saying it would make him easier to cooperate with.

Sighing, she glanced up at him; from her position in the sand he blotted out the sun, and that was going to make this easier, because then she didn't actually have to see him.

"I'm sorry." She said, loud and clear, so that she wouldn't have to go through the humiliation of him pretending that he didn't hear her. "I mean what I said, but it really wasn't necessary- and, it's been a long day…" She trailed off for a minute, forgetting what she was going to say next when he opened his mouth with a smug look on his face, "If you say anything that has a word even remotely similar to 'excuse' in it, I'll kill you."

The serious look on her face made him pause for a moment, then shrug.

"Look, it's been a long day, so let's not make this any more difficult than it has to be, okay? I need some rest, I'm in the middle of nowhere, and I can't Jump. So would you _please_ be kind enough to take me somewhere?"

Damned be to all men even half as smug as Griffin.

Sighing, he popped his neck and looked at her. Nodding his head, he said, "yeah, sure. Where are these people you need to meet?"

Floundering, she glanced around her quickly, hoping the scenery would magically put words in her mouth. Her eyes widened, and she forced herself to look back up at him. "I… don't know," the words tore themselves out of her.

And it was the truth, she was realizing. She had no idea where she was supposed to find the people that Amy had talked about occasionally, she had merely, in her fear and adrenaline, assumed that she would be able to find them before the Paladins found her.

"Where were we just a moment ago? I think that's where they'll be," she amended. Surely that had to be where they were, why else would Amy drop her off there?

"Houston," he replied, looking at her, once again incredulous (he had a notion that she left a lot of people feeling that way quite often).

She flinched. _Home_, Amy had taken her to the one place Amy would never forget, probably the one place in the entire world that she was thinking of during that stressful hour- _home_.

The tension in her let out slowly, as if someone had to keep folding her in half to let out all the excess emotions built up within her, as if she was an air mattress to be stomped on before being put into storage.

She suddenly felt like an item forgotten and left on the shelf to collect dust for years. She felt old, and tired, and sad.

The tension in all her muscles slowly relaxed, one by one, until the only thing holding her up was sheer stubbornness and force of will.

At first she didn't know what was going on- the sudden rush of drowsiness, the relaxation of her body, the inexplicable comfort the hot sand seemed to offer.

Then it clicked- the adrenaline was wearing off, after so many hours of continuous movement and pain, it was leaving her body. She wasn't ready for it, wouldn't be able to cope with any fresh memories that decided to surface while she drifted off to sleep- not in front of an audience, at least.

So she forced herself to stand, forced herself not to stumble, and forced herself to look Griffin right in the eyes, as she said, "I need you to take me somewhere. Anywhere. I need some sleep. Now."

It was the traitorous truth her body told him, as she stumbled ever so slightly backwards, that had him grabbing her arm and Jumping her next to a couch.

And what a soft couch it was, she decided, as she closed her eyes, and successfully blocked out any thoughts that tried to enter her mind. She was asleep before she could ask where she was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, last time it's posted, for reals this time: past happenings are in **_**italics**_** everything else is normal.**

_Time seemed to slow down here, in this place of heightened senses; she could smell the copper tang, almost taste it even, as she watched small droplets spill from between aged hands._

_It was as if Death had turned jewel, and it was morbid to watch, she really shouldn't be, it would somehow make her less human, she knew- but it would be far worse not to._

_She couldn't just walk away as her mother died. Not in the kitchens that smelled of gingerbread and Christmas. Not while the molasses boiled over in their borrowed pot, and not while so many of their gingerbread houses went unfinished._

_She tried not to think of how their strange, half-finished and lifeless shells so mirrored the look of her mother during that prolonged moment._

_Their eyes met for the first time, and she felt a chill run down her back when she belatedly realized that nothing of her mother remained in them- she had felt too much. Too much pain, too much terror, to leave room for anything else. And Shilloh knew, in that moment, that she would never stop crying._

She awoke heaving silently, puffing out in between small gasps. Her heart felt sluggish in her ribcage, as if it had simply lost the will to beat.

The smell of the day still clung to her, and she had to swallow around several lumps caught in her throat, trying not to remember in technicolor detail every small thing that wanted to make itself known.

Trying not to remember how the strong scent of gingerbread had become inseparably infused with blood sweat and dirt. Trying not to think of how the salt from her tears had left her feeling so thirsty she thought she'd die.

Her eyes blinked slowly in the dim light, and refused to focus on any fixed object on the ceiling. Turning her head, she dimly acknowledged that she had no idea where she was (again), and that her current situation seemed dangerous.

This wasn't a hotel, or some stranger's two-story house. This was a dark place littered with papers, some of them housing profanity and people's faces. This was a place that contained numerous weapons, and had a slightly musty smell.

This was a place she should be worried about.

But she couldn't bring herself to care, couldn't even bring herself to get off the comfortable couch she was currently on.

Draping an arm over both her eyes, she listened with half an ear, and began to hum to herself. It was something she had started doing at the daycare she worked at part-time; it always seemed to get the kids to calm down, shut up, and go to sleep.

_They had been cutting out shapes into the gingerbread, preparing them for the ovens. She was responsible for all the pieces of the houses, and her sister was cutting out all things Christmas._

"_How much do you think we'll raise this year?" Vicki asked._

"_I dunno, we've got about thirsty houses here, so I'm hoping we'll be able to donate close to five hundred dollars."_

"Oh God my sister!" She shot up at once, forgetting that she was in a strange place with possible threats lurking around somewhere.

"Shit shit shit shit!" Jumping immediately into panic mode, she began searching for an exit, not bothering to think of the logistics of the fevered plans she was cooking up.

"So, would you like some breakfast?"

**Hey, sorry for the short chapter everyone, I've been agonizing over this chapter since I posted the last one, and the dreaded Writer's Block Virus has it's hold on me! No worries though, if I can get past the next two or three chapters I know exactly where this story will head- it's really just a matter of how to get there.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry to completely re-do this chapter on you guys (again). But the way I've set up my outline, the one I had simply wouldn't work. Not to mention I was mortified when I went through and re-read it, only to discover that I spelled the character's names wrong. What kind of an author am I? So, everything's fixed, and hopefully better. I want to upload a new chapter tonight, but just getting this one up gave me a headache. I can promise I will have it written tonight, and uploaded probably Thursday, Saturday at the latest, if my uncle's computer keeps giving me problems (I'm house-sitting right now).**

Crashing and tumbling and spilling out of her, came an unbidden sense of terror. Utter disbelief at the situation she found herself in- she couldn't understand how he could be asking her about _food_when she was in such obvious distress.

But at least she knew where she was now.

Hell.

"Breakfast? No I don't want breakfast! My sister's with those goddamned monsters!" Her arms flung out into the air in a very dramatic display, which caused Griffin's lips to twitch just slightly up. Shilloh didn't seem to notice.

Her green dress swayed around her legs, and with a petulant look that clearly stated 'I am not amused,' she glanced down at her legs and mumbled "you have been nothing but trouble since I bought you." Griffin would have actually laughed at her, if she hadn't chosen that exact moment to spin on the heel of her boot and face him.

He shook a box of noodles at her before she could open her mouth. It looked as if she was working herself into hysterics, and really, he hadn't even wanted her in his space, let alone crying all over it.

She blinked dumbly at the noodles for a second, before looking at him again. He smiled at her around a mouthful of his food, and her shoulders slumped.

"You're not going to help me, are you?" Pushing a few papers off of one of the chairs at the table, she sat down and took the noodles from him.

Griffin glanced sullenly at the mess of papers on the floor before tossing her a set of chopsticks. It was possibly one of the most peaceful moments he had spent with someone in quite a while, and he resolutely felt no emotion over how pitiable that was.

They ate in silence for all of ten minutes before Shilloh couldn't take it anymore. Looking sharply up at Griffin, she let out a soft sigh, before placing her chopsticks in her mostly-untouched noodles, and opened her mouth to say something. She wasn't entirely certain what it was going to be, yet, but she was sure it would be brilliant and would, no doubt, convince Griffin that he absolutely _had to _help her find her sister. Or, at the very least, that he had to do something more for her than let her sleep on his couch and give her some food.

"No. Absolutely not. I will not risk my own neck to clean up _your_ mess. I've already let you sleep on my couch, and spent good money to feed you. All of this after you punched me," he said, without even looking at her.

Shilloh winced slightly as she looked at his lip, which still looked painfully swollen, and she could see that the bruise had begun to turn a sickly yellow around the deep purple that surrounded his lip. She must have punched him harder than she had thought.

Still, he deserved that punch. She pushed her food towards him and placed her hand on the table in front of his face, practically kneeling on her chair to reach that far across the table.

"I want my sister. You want to kill Paladins. I don't see why this is such a problem, it's quite obvious we can help each other," she said, fingers now strumming on the table in an attempt to get him to look at her. This man was the most infuriatingly stubborn person she had ever met. Really, was it so hard to just _look_ at someone when they were speaking to you? Apparently she had to jump through hoops just to achieve a minor flicker of his attention.

Griffin tried not to snort at her, he really did. He was an ass, sure, but it wasn't as if he had any real need to piss this girl off. No reason to push her away, either. But honestly, _we can help each other_? She looked like she couldn't take down a kitten on her fiercest day, let alone a Paladin, well-trained or not.

"By 'help each other' you mean I'll be doing all the research, I'll be doing all the fighting, and, oh, since you can't Jump, I'll be getting every one's sorry asses out of wherever it is we happen to be," he was actually looking at her now, and she didn't like the way he was doing it, either. She almost preffered it when he was staring into his food as if it was the smartest thing in the room.

She scrunched her eyebrows together and scowled at him. "You have a very high opinion of yourself, sir. By 'help each other' I really meant 'I need you for transportation.' I was being kind, because I know Jumpers don't like being thought of as some sort of bus system," her eyes looked directly into his as she said this, and if he hadn't heard the contempt in her voice, there was no way he would've missed it in her eyes.

"You _know_ do you?" He wanted to continue down this track, because now that he was actually thinking about her, really, truly thinking about her- and not just in that 'well great now she's asleep on my couch what the hell do I do?' sort of way- he was starting to see some odd connections in her story so far.

Why would the Paladins be after her to begin with? She clearly couldn't Jump. She seemed to know Jumpers, so that could be it- maybe she was related to one? That would explain the whole sister thing. But then it wouldn't explain why she seemed to familiar with Paladins in general. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly in thought. And the sister bit was definitely odd.

He wanted to ask her about what was really going on, but instead what came out of his mouth was something that, upon further reflection, he decided was probably more callous than he should have gone about things.

"Paladins don't leave survivors. What makes you think, even if we're able to find where they are, they will have taken her alive?"

She flung herself off of the table at his words, her eyes wide, and she stood at the end of the table for a brief moment. It looked, for all the world, as if she were a hurricane waiting to happen.

"Because I didn't see them kill her," she said, and looked over her shoulder towards his wall of drawings.

"That doesn't mean-" he began, trying to sound soft. He couldn't handle crying, he really couldn't. She cut him off before he could finish his pathetic attempt, though.

"They want me dead. I mean, they want most people dead- clearly they want you dead. But, well, I'm a bit higher up on the threat scale," she sighed when he gave her a skeptical look. "No, really. I mean, yeah, I can fight, but, well. Look at me. I know you're thinking it, Griffin, I look like I can't hurt anything- though, you should know better, I did split your lip. Really, though, I _can_ fight, just, not well enough to be as high up on the threat radar as most. No, I'm there because I have information that they don't want others to know about." She sighed again and went to sit down on the couch.

He was still skeptical, about the whole thing, really. Sure, she hit him, but that didn't mean she could hold her own in a fight, it just meant that if she got really, really lucky, she could pack a punch. And information? What? Were the Paladins worried that she'd let slip what their favorite tailor was?

"So, they want me dead. And since I can't Jump, their Sensitives can't track me. They know I'm not stupid enough to leave a paper trail. It's a waiting game, now. Of course they'll take my sister- they want me to come to them, instead of spending who knows how long trying to find me. Especially since, before they can get to me, who knows what I'll divulge, and to whom? Well, they know where my allegiance lays, so they'd have to be really really thick not to know that I'll find the first Jumper I can, but still."

He was listening, now, and he wasn't liking what he was hearing. "So, how, exactly, do you know this information? And what _kind_ of information is it?"

She looked up at him, and it seemed to him that she shrunk into the couch, trying to hide from him. "Oh, I know all kinds of things. For instance, they've got different bases for different things- one for weapons development, one for Jumper research, one for Paladin recruitment and another for training. I know there's more, but that's all I learned about before I scarpered off." She looked at him with eyes that pleaded with him not to continue, giant pools of self-loathing and pain.

"And how is it that you know even that much?" He asked anyway, and watched as she hid her face into his couch, making it so just her eyes looked over the top of it at him.

"They recruited me."


End file.
